September 2005

I know they have to tell the big stories, those mass media people. But, maybe some day we'll hear about the other ninety percent - the rest of the story. Like the loss of thousands of livestock. Archives and public records. Dirt tracks. Missing rice fields and catfish ponds. Katrina destroyed this year's sugar cane planting; and, the huge sugar refinery in Chalmette Louisiana, the parish seat of St. Bernard Parish and site of the 'Battle of New Orleans', is out of commission. That's 900,000 short tons of refined white crystal sugar a year shortfall - a lot of Breyers Mud Pie ice cream with caramel swirls, Nabisco chocolate crème oreo's and devil's food snack-wells, tootsie rolls and junior mints, and my morning chocolate cake donut and large coffee with half&half and three packets of Sweet-and-Low.

"If you drop it, ants will come," wrote Robert Dunn in the recent issue of Natural History magazine - the perfect spark needed to pry me away from the air conditioning so precious for the dog days of July and August and motivate my ass to the nearest river-bearing national forest to confirm Dunn's thesis for my own self. And that's exactly what I did well befo' dawn yesterday. Nothing is more fun than to step into a pair of rubber boots and stomp thru the dew covered flowers, slipping along the river bank in the steam and early morning light. I grumble when my batteries die and the shutter freezes up, then glow noticeably photographing my first Asiatic dayflower since ninety-one, which I remember quite clearly. A nice reunion here with Fall's familiar cast of characters: goldenrods, joe-pye weed, sunflowers, ironweed, white horse mint, golden asters, lobelias, the Festival. Most of the wildflowers in this forest add to each seed an oily appendage called the elaiosome. When a seed drops ants will drag it back to the mound and feed the eliasome to their larvae and toss the undamaged seeds on the garbage dump, with all the other tasty nutrients like legs and wings and stuff. Thus, we have the major dispersal mechanism for all these wonderful wildflowers right here around this nice camping spot where I've stopped for lunch. And I intend on turning over some rocks and poking in some rotten logs to watch the ant caravans bringing in eliasomes and maybe even witness them tossing out a few seeds. That is, if I can stand to keep these hot boots on any longer.

It's about water. My 40-year professional career focused on water exclusively - running water, clean water - as an educator and scientific professional, and once passionate advocate. My 20-years on the road doing amateur photography followed each track straight to the nearest water; I'm hypnotized by its capacity to flow so effortlessly and calmed by its flawless sense of direction. My one-and-only photography exhibit, the 19 ways of water, was called L'esprit de L'eau. The Spirit of Water, in natural light.

This bubble burst after seeing the shock and despair and human tragedy wrought by water. I began to wonder if I could ever post another romanticized water scene. How could it be viewed as other than naïve or worse, indifferent. Where's the first responder. Where's the shelter.

Not long ago I plunged into the vast sea of Japanese woodblock prints, and printmaking, collectively called Ukiyo-e, the 'floating world.' Ukiyo-e landscapes keep things simple and never make judgments. The viewer is always encouraged to become a part. These restful leaves, the strong reflections, the light gradations seemed well suited for a woodblock print, and a way to say it's time again. 'It's O.K."

While workin here at my desk tonight I reached out and flicked this little bug pretty hard with my fingernail. The impact drove it sailing smack into the barrel of a red Sharpie at the base of the lamp. Wobbily it rose, antlers sampling, and staggered across the flash memory cartridge around the Swiss Army Knife that Rankin Rob gave me and squeezed under the real-ink stamp pad.

In a few seconds here it comes, charging out, apparently not seeking any payback retaliation, but resolutely scampering between things here and there on the desk. A quick scoot by the scissors, then a dart across the hand calculator keypad. A race along the mouse chord in a smooth S-curve to the tape dispenser ending with a squirm beneath the postage stamps edging around the back of the lamp to the stamp pad - only to sprint the circuit again. Then again, and again…

Watching this frenzy unfold I began to wish I hadn't flicked it so… so thoughtlessly.

I went to my background file and plucked out an old yellowed article on 'How the Wheel was Invented.'

Stage 1: Place rollers beneath heavy objectsStage 2: Place skids under heavy objectsStage 3: Place rollers under skids under heavy objectsStage 4: Skids gouge grooves on rollersStage 5: An illiterate peasant notices how good it works